Blood Ties
by ermintrude421
Summary: Lee and Amanda pursue a case on opposite sides of the world, and with a surprise helper. Episode 4 of virtual Season 7.
1. Chapter 1

*DISCLAIMER** Scarecrow & Mrs. King is copyrighted to Warner Brothers and Shoot The Moon Production Company. The original portions of this story, however, are copyrighted to the author. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No infringement of copyright is intended.

_Indicates *Translated from the Urdu*_

Blood Ties by Ermintrude

Prologue—Sibi, on the Eastern side of the Bolan Pass in Pakistan, on the way from Afghanistan.

A line of trucks slowly made their way through the dusty streets of a village on the eastern side of the Bolan Pass. A beggar sat against a building in the shade and watched the convoy pass. He was clothed in a turban and voluminous dusty and worn robes. His feet wore old but surprisingly serviceable sandals. His face was bearded and lined from a hard life, but his eyes were bright and missed nothing. In front of him was a worn begging bowl, and beside him was a much-used and patched wooden crutch. As the trucks lumbered by, he pulled out a small notebook and a worn pencil and made some notes.

He waited several minutes after the convoy had passed, and the dust had settled, then he carefully tucked the notebook and pencil away within his robes. He gathered his alms bowl and hoisted his crutch and slowly made his way to a hotel several blocks away from the village square. He waved at the concierge as he passed and stepped behind the main desk into the room beyond. Inside a young male telephone operator manned an ancient plug-and-wire switchboard. The beggar nodded at the operator, and passed the man some money. The operator passed the beggar a sheet of paper and the beggar wrote down a telephone number, complete with country code. The young operator dialed it—made sure the connection had gone through and handed the headset to the beggar. The beggar heard the telephone ringing on the other end.

"International Federal Film. How may I help you?"

"I need to get a message to the Scarecrow in Washington, D.C. please."

"What message do you wish to leave?"

"Tell him that the Beggar has seen hot cargo coming in and he needs to come to Sibi near the Bolan Pass or else the club will gain another member."

"I'll see that he gets the message."

"Please expedite it, this is urgent."

"I'll do that."

"Thank you."

Act One

Monday morning at the Agency was as busy as ever. Once the morning meeting was over, the agents dispersed. Lee and Francine were chatting by the coffee station, while Amanda was across the room, conversing with a couple of other agents.

"So Lee, you're going to be a father. You seem excited about it all." Francine was still somewhat taken aback at the changes her old friend had made since his partner and now wife came into his life.

"Yeah I am. But it's scary, too. I've been reading all these books about pregnancy and childbirth. I know Amanda's OK, but I am also realizing why childbirth was such a risky proposition for women in the past." He looked unusually solemn.

"Or now, if they don't have access to quality medical care," Francine added with a nod. "I've traveled in the third world, and I've seen a woman die because her child was a breech and she didn't have access to a doctor—or even a competent midwife." She paused, then continued, "It was a particularly brutal way to die." She seemed to be seeing something far away as her face turned grave. "Thank heavens Amanda has a good ob-gyn here in DC."

A young woman came into the bullpen and looked around at the group of agents hanging around the coffee station. She spotted Scarecrow and came up to him.

"Excuse me, sir?" She hesitantly approached the handsome agent.

"Huh?" He replied in a less-than-suave manner.

Francine covered a smile at Lee's expression of bewilderment. "How times have changed," she muttered under her breath.

"Um—Scarecrow, this message came through to you overnight. It's coded urgent, so here it is, sir." She handed him a folded slip of paper and smiled.

Lee smiled back at the young woman. Once he would have also asked her out for a date. Nowadays his eyes and attentions were only for his wife and partner. And he was very glad of that. "Thank you, I appreciate your diligence."

The young woman blushed and scurried back to her office. Francine shook her head. "They still can't seem to realize you're off the market."

Lee shrugged, "It doesn't matter, I know it and that's what counts." He casually opened the note and read it. He stopped dead, and all the color left his face.

Francine noticed Lee's pallor. "Lee, what's wrong?"

"Uh, we got trouble. Billy! Amanda! We've got to talk, now!" He announced to the section chief and his wife. He motioned to Francine to include her also.

Billy nodded. "My office, people. Let's go!"

Once the four agents were gathered in Billy's office, Lee closed the door and drew the blinds. Billy shot a quick look at Francine who shrugged her shoulders in answer.

"We're here, Scarecrow." Billy said. "What's so urgent?"

"I got a message from an old contact—the Beggar." Lee replied.

Billy and Francine nodded—Amanda looked lost.

"The Beggar?" she queried.

Lee replied, "He's an old contact of mine in Pakistan. I spent a couple of years in and out of the country '77 to'79, before the Soviets invaded Afghanistan. The Beggar was my main contact with the locals. I was never really sure who he was working for—but he was reliable and he managed to teach me Urdu in an amazingly short time. Anyhow, he's sent us intel off and on ever since. He's able to move in and out of Afghanistan seemingly at will—and he was a good source of information on the whole Soviet invasion and the subsequent war. The last few years he's been quiet. I really hadn't thought about him since Eric died…"

Francine piped up, "I guess you had other … things on your mind." She smirked at Lee with a lift of the eyebrows as she spoke.

"What does the note say, Scarecrow?" Billy asked in an attempt to get the discussion back on track.

"Basically—it seems Pakistan is smuggling nuclear materials in and trying to build a bomb." Lee sounded incredulous.

"Say what!" Billy roared.

Francine intervened. "Billy, we know Pakistan has had nuclear ambitions ever since India got the bomb in 1974," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Thank you for stating the obvious, Francine," Billy looked to Lee. "Am I to understand the Beggar has proof?"

"It would seem so," Lee confirmed. "Billy, we have to check this out. We can't afford not to know." Lee sounded reluctant.

"I agree, Scarecrow," Billy stated. "That area is still adjusting to the Soviet pullout last January. And who knows just what the Soviets left behind?"

"Or just what's being moved around under the guise of the Afghans reclaiming their country." Francine added.

"So what do we need to do?" Amanda asked.

Lee shuffled and looked intensely uncomfortable. "Uh—it's not "we" this time, Amanda. It's me. Alone."

"Why?" she quietly asked.

Lee paced and Billy took over. "Several reasons. One is that you're not familiar with the area or the language and women operate at a disadvantage in that part of the world." Lee and Francine nodded in agreement.

"So I don't know the language, Lee does. I didn't know German and we got along fine in Germany," Amanda countered.

Billy held out his hand. "This is not Germany. In Germany you can expect a certain portion of the population to understand some English—not in Pakistan."

"And then there's the issue of facilities, " Francine added.

"Facilities?" Amanda asked.

"You know—facilities. You're pregnant and well, there aren't gas stations with convenient bathrooms on every corner." She replied knowingly.

"Or any corner," Lee added, looking apologetic.

Amanda looked shocked, then determined. She opened her mouth to speak but Billy spoke first. "And the conditions are primitive at best. We don't know where Lee will have to go and if he has to 'go native', buthe will be living rough."

Amanda turned to Billy. "I've camped so I can deal with living rough."

"But are you up to riding in an ancient vehicle with no springs on rough roads—or worse no road at all?" Billy continued, "Plus there's a good chance food and water may become scarce, and you'll have to eat whatever is available, which may make you very sick. And are you up for a ten mile hike?"

"In chador?" Francine added.

"Chador? Not all Pakistani women wear full veils," Amanda shot back.

Francine nodded. "Yes, but if you have to go native, that's the best disguise for any woman. You could hide an uzi under there and nobody would know the difference."

"I suppose you know all about it, Francine," Amanda was becoming weary of this.

"I've avoided it, but it's a practical disguise. And it would help hide your pregnancy, which could cause other complications if it became known," Francine replied matter-of-factly looking at Amanda's swelling figure.

"People," Billy tried to intervene, "Amanda, you're pregnant—almost five months along—and you're not in your 20's…" he trailed off apologetically.

"Sir, I'm doing fine. My doctor says everything is OK." Amanda replied.

Billy nodded. "Sure it is now. But do you want to take the risk if something goes wrong? Medical facilities over there aren't up to our standards—if you can even get there in time." Francine nodded emphatically in agreement.

She looked at her husband, "Lee…" she pleaded.

He replied apologetically, "Amanda—please—if I could guarantee things would be easy—all in the cities or on bases—I'd love to have you come with me. But chances are I'll have to go undercover in the countryside. They aren't going to hide this stuff where just anyone can find it."

Francine spoke up again, "Add to that, as a traditional woman you'd have to walk behind Lee and respond instantly to his commands."

"Commands?" Amanda looked puzzled.

"Remove my boots, woman!" Francine barked. "Only it would be in Urdu—which I don't speak—unfortunately. That's how women are treated over there. Add to that you'd be expected to do all the cooking and washing, for every man in the group, plus whatever else they might need from a servant. Do you really want to subject yourself to that?" She looked to Lee and tried to communicate she was helping.

"Yeah, well." Lee interrupted as he shot an irritated look back at Francine. He rubbed the back of his neck.

Billy spoke quietly, "Amanda, it's just not possible or practical to include you in this. Lee needs to leave immediately and I'm hoping he can take military transport—which is only basic transport at best." He was pleading for her acquiescence.

Amanda looked irked, but defeated. "OK, OK. I get the point. I think it stinks—but I get it," she grudgingly agreed.

Lee shot Billy a grateful look.

Billy continued, "I'm reluctant to send Lee—but the Beggar dealt mostly with him and we don't have time to get another agent up to speed. Everyone else who spent significant time with the Beggar over there in the late '70's has moved on. Scarecrow's the only currently active agent in the field we have who won't have to be familiarized with the area and the personnel. We don't have the time to introduce anyone else to the Beggar, and time is of the essence here. Scarecrow and the Beggar have worked together before, so we use Lee for this one."

"Obviously, we'll have to remedy that situation," Francine made a note of it.

"So, Lee has to go over there in person. Alone?" Amanda asked.

"Yeah, the sooner the better," Lee admitted with a sheepish glance at his wife.

"I'll see what arrangements I can make, "Francine said as she rose to leave.

"Be creative," Billy interjected. "Sooner is more important than comfortable or conventional." Billy shot a look at Lee who was looking apologetically at Amanda.

Amanda nodded. "I guess understand." She took a breath and spoke matter-of-factly, "What can I do here?"

Billy smiled at her acceptance of the awkward situation. "Why don't you work your contacts? See if anyone here has any information about that situation."

Amanda nodded. "I think TP will be my first call."

"Yeah—and maybe Augie, too." Lee added.

"Augie?" Amanda asked.

'Well he does deal with a lot of sleazy types—and people who traffic in illicit nuclear material are pretty sleazy…"

"OK, I can contact Augie, too," Amanda agreed.

Billy was pleased. "Good. Scarecrow—you go home and pack—be ready to leave as soon as Francine finds transport. Amanda—why don't you go with him and help. He'll probably need a ride to wherever he's leaving from. Then you can start making your contacts after he's left."

The two agents smiled in gratitude. "Thank you, sir." "Thanks, Billy."

They left the office.

QQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQ

In the 'Vette Lee drove while Amanda tried to remain objective.

"Lee?"

"Yes?"

"Will it be like this from now on?" Amanda tried not to sound sad.

"What do you mean?"

"You going off to who-knows-where while I stay behind to do the legwork, research and contact our sources?"

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "This is a special situation. Normally I'd hand this over to someone—anyone—else. But this time, I'm the only person who can do the assignment—quickly and with a minimum of pre-planning."

"I suppose." She tried to change the mood. "Tell me about your time in Pakistan when you met the Beggar."

Lee gathered his thoughts. "I got to Pakistan in '77. They'd been an important strategic US ally and a lot of missions in the Middle East start and end in Pakistan. Karachi and Islamabad are large cosmopolitan cities for that part of the world and travel from there to the rest of the Middle East—especially Iran, Iraq and Afghanistan—is much easier through Pakistan. I was stationed there when I met the Beggar."

"What's he like?" Amanda asked with interest.

"Just like his name—he looks and acts like a beggar. He sits in out-of-the-way places with his alms bowl and begs for money. He also watches and records activities. In a way, it's a perfect cover—beggars are found most everywhere over there, so one more just blends into the background. He walks with a limp and uses a crutch—though for the life of me I never was able to determine if it's real or part of his disguise."

She nodded. "I see."

"I was operating out of a hotel, using it as a base for messages—and I saw him come in and bribe the switchboard operator to use the phone. He may look dirty and poor, but he always has money for bribes."

"Who is he working for?"

"I think the guy is a freelancer—he digs up intel and shares it with whoever will pay. It was my first assignment after I left the Oz network. He sort-of took me under his wing—taught me Urdu—showed me around. Of course, in helping me he also got a new source of income—so he benefitted too. I was in and out of there for two years—until the Soviets invaded Afghanistan—then we left it mostly to the CIA. I've been back a couple of times since—but this is the first time I've heard from the Beggar in years—actually since Eric died and I met you." He took her hand. "He sort of faded away. I thought he had been killed or quit."

"How old is he?"

"I have no idea. He's probably over 30, but he could be 35 or 55. With all the dirt and rags and beard—his face is usually covered and he looks like he's had a hard life. I think he's originally a tribesman from the Pakistan/Afghan border area."

"Why would he help you guys? Where do his loyalties lie?"

Lee was silent for a beat. "I don't know those answers, then or now. I think he's an independent operator, but sometimes he seems just too well-connected within the Pakistani hierarchy. Then again, with enough money for bribes—you can get almost anything over there. I do know the guy is like a chess master, he loves moving the pieces around the board, moving and counter-moving. He certainly is a grand master at playing the game. And maybe that's the ultimate answer—he just loves to play the game—that's how he gets his kicks, and the foreign agents he 'helps' are just pieces on his chessboard."

They had arrived at the house. As it was a weekday, the boys were at school and Dotty was out with friends.

In their bedroom, as Lee packed, Amanda helped him. When he was finished he had a duffle and a rucksack—traveling light with only essentials. He had changed into tough khaki bush gear.

Once he was packed, he sat on the edge of their bed and pulled Amanda to sit next to him. "Amanda, I really don't want to leave you. It's just…" he ran down.

"I know, I know," she replied. "It's the job. It's necessary. But Lee—we have to talk—I don't want to spend the rest of my career at the Agency 'back at home' doing research."

"I hear you," he nodded. "I'm thrilled about the baby—really—I guess I just didn't realize how many changes we'd need to make—both at home and on the job."

"Yeah—just not practical," she said wryly. "Lee, I worked hard to get to where I am—but I'm committed to our child, too. And, well, there are lots of jobs out there. But we're having a baby—our baby. And I guess I'm feeling a little selfish—but for me, right now, I feel the baby's coming first."

"And it should, Amanda. You taught me that family is more important than any job. And I love you," he kissed her gently, "and the boys," he kissed her again, "and your mother," he kissed her again, "and our child," he kissed her deeply. "This isn't something we have to decide now—or next week—but we have four months to think about what to do—what you will do—what we will do—with our jobs—our careers—and our new addition to the family."

"Yeah—this house, for one thing. Adding another person is gonna make it really crowded."

He nodded. "But I don't want your mother to move out. She's so excited about the baby, too. She wants to be a part of it all…"

She kissed him again. "We have a lot to talk about when you get back, Lee."

"Yes we do. And I promise I'll think about it while I'm gone."

"When will you have time to think about it, Scarecrow?"

"During the long lonely nights. I've discovered I don't sleep well if you're not with me. I'll miss you, Mrs. Stetson."

"And I'll miss you, Mr. Stetson…" They kissed and one thing led to another and soon they were lying on the bed—and the phone rang.

"Oh shoot!" Amanda said.

"Story of our marriage—always interrupted."

She smiled and patted her rounded tummy. "Not always, Lee."

He picked up the phone. "Hello? Oh yeah, Francine—Really? OK, I'll have Amanda drive me there. Thanks." He turned back to Amanda. "That was Francine," he said unnecessarily.

"So I gathered."

"She has me going out on a military transport as soon as I can get to Andrews AFB. It'll get me there quicker than a commercial flight would."

"Well, the quicker you get there—the quicker you can be back home."

"Yeah." He took her in his arms and kissed her, slowly and deeply. Her hands twined in his hair and he pulled them down to lie across the bed. His hands ran down her back, to rest under her top at the small of her back. Then they broke off, and gazed deeply into each others' eyes

"Hold that thought until I get back."

"You got it, big fella."

End Act One

Act Two

_Indicates *Translated from the Urdu*_

Once Amanda had dropped Lee off at Andrews, she used the car phone to call TP Aquinas.

"Good Morning, T. Percival Aquinas at your service."

"Hi TP, its Amanda."

"Hello, Mrs. Stetson. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"Could I drop by early this afternoon? I need to talk to you about something."

"Of course, Mrs. Stetson. Would you like to meet in the park? It's such a nice day for the season."

"Sure TP, in the park, say about 1?"

"1 In the park sounds fine—see you then. Goodbye."

"Goodbye TP, see you in a while."

Amanda returned to the Agency, and once in the Q Bureau called Augie.

"Augie's Antiques and Collectibles."

"Hello Augie, it's Amanda."

"Oh Hi, Mrs. S. What's up?"

"I haven't seen your new store—Antiques and Collectibles?"

"Yeah. Antiques, curios and … other stuff."

"Maybe I could drop by on my way home—will you be there around 5?"

"Oh sure Mrs. S. I'll be here."

"OK, see you then, Augie. Goodbye."

Amanda spent the remainder of the morning in the Q Bureau checking what she could from the computer on her desk. She didn't get much beyond what everyone knew—Pakistan had nuclear ambitions—but there were no specific details or confirmed information about how far they had gotten.

In the afternoon she grabbed a sandwich on her way to meet with TP in the park by the cannon. She walked toward the bench where he was seated and gestured to the empty seat beside him. "Is this seat taken?" she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Stetson. Actually it's reserved—for you."

"Thanks, TP." She sat. They chatted about the weather and other small things while she ate her sandwich. They fed the crumbs to the ever-present birds. Eventually Amanda got down to business. "So TP, have you heard anything unusual or new about Pakistan lately?"

"I presume that's where your husband is off to, then? After all, if he were in town he'd most likely be here with you."

"Lee's on assignment."

When she didn't elaborate, TP nodded. "Well, I suppose you know the basics—since India gained nuclear capability in 1974, Pakistan has also tried to get the bomb as a strategic deterrent. They feel very vulnerable as the underdog in that region. Those two countries have been bitter enemies since the partition in 1947."

"Yes, I got all that—but do you know anything more specific? Like any notable people or circumstances?"

TP sighed, "I haven't heard anything specific. It's common knowledge Pakistan is headhunting for nuclear physicists and engineers—ideally Muslims—but they'll pay top dollar for most anyone who will help them gain nuclear capability. They're also looking out for any uranium—preferably enriched—that "happens" to be available. Or plutonium. But again, nothing specific."

"Could you check around and see if you can find out anything more?"

"I'll be happy to, Mrs. Stetson. I'll call if I find anything."

"Sooner is better, TP. We're in a bit of a time crunch with this."

"If I get anything outside office hours, I presume I can call you at home?"

"Sure, TP. If I'm not at home then just leave a message you've called. Thanks for your help in this."

"It's my pleasure."

Back at the Q Bureau that afternoon, Amanda filed a contact report on her meeting with TP and spent the rest of the day filing and tying up loose ends on old cases until it was time to leave to meet Augie. She was frustrated at her lack of productive activity. Usually when that happened, she and Lee would talk over the case and work together on less-than-urgent tasks. It was lonely working by herself in the Q Bureau. Probably more lonely, because she knew Lee was en route to Pakistan on various military transports. Alone. Even after all these years, she was apprehensive whenever he was off alone on an assignment. She knew he had worked solo for more of his career than partnered—but since she had taken that package at the train station she felt somewhat responsible for him. Mostly she just felt things went better when she was there to watch his back. And he would watch hers.

Shortly after 4, she grabbed up her purse and her keys and left for the day, handing her ID to Mrs. Marsden on the way out. Rush hour traffic could be bad and Augie's new store was across town.

Around 5, Amanda pulled up in one of the parking spots in front of an old run-down storefront. It sported a newly-painted sign—Augie's Antiques and Collectibles. The windows were grimy and inside the store looked equally dingy.

Amanda walked into the shop—it consisted of a large room with tables and displays of assorted stuff. There was little order and fine cut glass sat next to faded plastic promotional cups you could get at a fast food place 10 years ago. She browsed and picked up a few items to examine them. There was a worn desk with an ancient brass cash register near the back, but no sign of life otherwise.

Amanda picked up a light blue china plate—it had a matte finish with a white raised design in the middle and decoration around the rim. The tag on the back read "Royal Doulton". Amanda snorted at the obvious misidentification.

She heard a crash in the back, and put the plate down and rushed to investigate. In a back room, Augie was sprawled on the floor—a box lying next to him with pieces of a broken vase lying nearby.

"Augie, are you OK?" Amanda asked while helping the snitch regain his feet.

"Oh hi, Mrs. S. Yeah—I'm OK. I think I need to change businesses. This antique stuff is hard work. Plus, you gotta know about some weird stuff."

She smiled at his inexperience. "Yeah—like the difference between Wedgwood and Royal Doulton."

"Oh great! Did I mix them up again? What's the difference? They're both British after all."

Amanda shook her head. "They're as different as chalk and cheese as an English friend of mine would say."

"I suppose. But I don't think you came by to talk about English china."

"No Augie, I didn't." They moved back into the main store and Amanda retrieved the mis-marked plate and handed it to Augie. "Here—this is Wedgwood—oh—and what do you know about Pakistan and nuclear material?"

"Wow! You sure don't mess around anymore. Where's Mr. S?" He looked around for Lee.

"He's working elsewhere today. And I'm in a bit of a time bind, Augie. So please—if you know anything—please tell me now."

"Gee Mrs. S—Don't you want to buy anything?" Augie gave Amanda a hurt puppy-dog look as he offered her the Wedgwood plate.

Amanda smiled ruefully and reached into her purse. She pulled out a few bills and handed them to the snitch. He looked at them, and put one in the cash register and the rest into his pocket. He busied himself wrapping the plate in newspaper and securing it with tape as he talked.

"I don't deal in nukes—way too dangerous—radiation can kill a guy, y'know?"

"Do you know anything?" Amanda asked definitively.

"Well, I heard a few things—here and there—nothing real definite…"

Amanda was getting tired of the game. "What have you heard, Augie?"

"OK. A couple of guys—who say they're independent contractors but are really working for the government of Pakistan—are looking for enriched uranium or plutonium—and price is no object."

"Do you know who they are?" Amanda asked.

"Their names change like I change my socks."

"Or your businesses?" Amanda interjected.

"Hey! I have to make a living, here. Anyhow, they're just called the Pakistani nuclear brothers in the trade—though I don't think they're really brothers. They drifted around the US a couple of years ago—and got nowhere. The Russians supposedly said no—they've been in and out of China and North Korea a bunch of times. I heard China is sending aid to Iraq since the Iran-Iraq war ended."

"So you think the material is coming from China or North Korea through Iraq into Pakistan?"

"Of course China is also sending aid to Iran. As is North Korea."

"Good heavens, everybody is dealing with everybody else around there." Amanda was somewhat boggled by the Machiavellian alliances.

"I don't control how the world works, Mrs. S. I only pass on some of the rumors. For a profit, of course." He smiled with pride for his "contributions" to world affairs.

Amanda shook her head with a wry grin. "Have you heard any more rumors, Augie?"

Augie reached down and held up a small decorative bowl. "Look at this exquisite cut glass candy dish, Mrs. S."

Amanda look chagrined. "Augie, I'd hate to have to tell the IRS that you're skimming profits from your business. I distinctly saw only one bill go into the cash register. The others are in your pocket. And you don't have a receipt tape on that cash register. Are you going to hand-write me a receipt later? With a carbon duplicate for your records?" She looked questioningly at him.

"Hey!" Augie was aggrieved. "Give a guy a break. Nobody would believe you paid that much for a crummy plate."

Amanda adopted her 'mom' face and put her hands on her hips. "You clearly don't know your business, Augie. There are plates out there that are worth thousands."

"Yeah? What—where are they—you know where I can get some cheap?" Ever the opportunist, Augie always wanted to make a buck.

Amanda wasn't distracted. "Augie, what's it gonna be? Do I have to call the IRS here?"

"OK, OK. Geez—you used to be nice. You've been hanging around your husband too long. All the nice wore off. Whadda you say I throw this candy dish in for free?" He held it up so it caught the light.

"Augie, the information…" Amanda wasn't going to be deterred.

"Oh yeah, sure." He wrapped the dish as he talked. "A lot of hi-tech industrial equipment has moved from West Germany into Pakistan. Some of it can even be used to refine uranium or build a nuke."

Amanda was puzzled. "West Germany? But they're our allies."

"And supposedly some hand-me-down US aircraft given to Pakistan have been modified to carry nukes."

"That's worrisome." Amanda took the packages from Augie. "Please call me if you hear any more rumors."

Augie nodded. "Will do, Mrs. S. Have a nice evening."

When Amanda got home she placed her purchases along with her purse on the island in the kitchen. Dotty had dinner almost ready.

"Amanda, Lee, are you home?" Amanda came downstairs into the kitchen.

"It's just me, mother. Lee was called out of town this morning."

"Oh, and I made fried chicken—I know how much he likes it. Maybe I can save some for him."

"I don't know how long he'll be gone, mother. So unless you plan to freeze it, don't bother. The boys will just eat it anyhow."

"Those two are going to eat us out of house and home. No matter how much I cook, they always ask for more."

"They're healthy growing boys."

Dotty had opened the wrapped packages Amanda had brought home from Augie's store while Amanda set the table for dinner.

"Oh Amanda, how beautiful!" She held up the cut glass candy dish. "And this is nice." She looked at the tag on the Wedgwood plate, "Although the shopkeeper doesn't know the difference between Royal Doulton and Wedgwood," Dotty remarked dryly.

"He's new to the business—still learning." Amanda replied automatically.

"Well—you sure got a couple of bargains. What did you get them for?"

"Oh," Amanda thought quickly. "I thought we could give them to Aunt Minnie and Aunt Lillian for Christmas."

"That's a good idea. You can't start too early with the Christmas shopping," Dotty confirmed. "Remember when you were little and I sent Lillian that crystal figurine? Somehow, it got smashed in the mail, and it arrived in a zillion pieces. But she never said a word, and then when we visited, I never saw it, so I thought she didn't like it, but she was so worried I would think she had broken it, and then we had that big fight about it, and afterward we cried and made up? It just goes to show, you can't start too early finding the perfect Christmas gift." Amanda nodded and followed her mother's ramble with half an ear.

The phone rang, interrupting their conversation. Dotty answered, "Hello? Yes, she's here—Amanda it's for you."

"Hello?" Amanda took the phone, with relief.

It was TP, "Hello Mrs. Stetson. I trust I'm not interrupting anything important."

"Oh no, TP. It's OK—hold on a minute." She turned to her mother as she covered the phone, "Mother, could you hang it up when I tell you? I need to take this upstairs where it's quiet."

"OK Amanda. Boys! Dinner is almost ready—wash up and come on down."

Amanda went up to her bedroom and picked up the extension there. She told her mother she had it and closed the door to talk to TP in the relative quiet. "OK TP, what do you have?"

"Interestingly, I found out there are a number of premier West German technical firms that have been sending sophisticated machinery to Pakistan for a while now. Why it hasn't been embargoed I don't know … but a significant portion of this industrial machinery is manufactured for nuclear production or for creating nuclear bombs. In addition is seems Pakistan has acquired a source of tritium in West Germany which is a necessary component for making nuclear bombs."

"Oh dear, that isn't good."

"Otherwise I've not been able to get any solid information. Rumors abound, but nothing concrete."

"Well thanks, TP. I appreciate this information. If you could keep digging, I'd appreciate it." Amanda hung up the phone.

Amanda shook her head and muttered to herself, "West German machinery, uranium and/or plutonium from China or North Korea shipped through Iraq and Iran—Lee please be careful. I love you."

QQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQ

Lee arrived at the massive Jacobabad Air Force base in southern Pakistan, tired, dirty and hungry. He got a meal in the nearest mess, and was reminded just why he was very happy to move away from the Colonel and Air Force Bases. 'Over 20 years later and the food is still the same. Lousy but plentiful.'

He commandeered an Army jeep and headed off to the city of Sibi on the near side of the Bolan Pass. It was one of two major passes—ancient and celebrated—that cut through the mountains between ancient Pakistan and Afghanistan. Now Pakistan controlled both sides of the pass. The other more famous pass was the Khyber Pass, but it was too far north for Lee's purposes, and the Bolan Pass gave good access to Iran and Iraq through southern Afghanistan.

Lee figured the nuclear material was coming in from Iran or Iraq—probably obtained from China or North Korea. Or maybe even the Soviets. It was flown into Iran or Iraq and trucked from there across Afghanistan into Pakistan. There was a small chance that the material had been left behind in Afghanistan by the Soviets—but it wasn't like them to abandon nuclear material. Of course, their pullout hadn't been exactly orderly or careful, so he figured it was possible.

Lee had been surprised to learn there were quite a few US military advisory teams touring Afghanistan advising the government on the abandoned Soviet sites as well as materiel and ordinance. His cover was a civilian advisor to the Army consulting on the rebuilding of Afghanistan's infrastructure as well as retaining as much of the Soviet materiel and construction as they could. It would serve him well in both Pakistan—where rebuilding materials would originate—and Afghanistan as well if he had occasion to cross into that country. He didn't plan on going as far as Iraq or Iran—though he could if necessary.

He drove into the small city of Sibi. It was from there that the Beggar had sent his message nearly two days before. He checked into the hotel where the message originated, and settled in, taking a long much-appreciated shower. Once he had changed it was late afternoon, and Lee decided to take a stroll and see if he could find his contact, as well as get some dinner.

He strolled the narrow side-streets—walked through a market—and over to a central square. He was strolling like a tourist, though keeping his eyes open for the Beggar. He also spotted a few items in the market he would definitely try to bring home to his family.

He had no luck spotting the Beggar, so he sat at a restaurant bordering the square and ordered dinner for himself. As Pakistan was a Muslim country—secular but Muslim nonetheless—he didn't order any alcoholic beverages but instead got the thick sweet tea to accompany his meal of lamb and vegetables, cooked into a hearty stew, and served over spiced rice.

As Lee was finishing up his stew, a grimy beggar using a worn crutch thrust an ancient chipped alms bowl into his face.

"_Alms for the love of Allah, Praise Allah!"_ the grubby man intoned the usual sing-song litany in Urdu.

Lee was taken aback—he was automatically translating the conversation as the waiter immediately hurried over, talking and trying to "protect" his patron from the local indigent_. "Be gone you son of a camel! This gentleman doesn't want his dinner ruined by your filth!"_

"_Please, oh great sir,"_ the Beggar quickly appealed to Lee_. "You are rich and I am the poorest of the poor. Please take pity on one who is less fortunate and spare something for a poor beggar. Allah will bless your charity."_

The waiter tried to come between the two. _"Begone! I will call the police if you do not leave immediately!"_ The waiter was ineffectually shooing the beggar with his towel.

"_That's OK,"_ Lee said placatingly. He reached into his pocket and put a few coins into the alms bowl with his right hand, while underneath the bowl he passed a small message with his left.

"_A thousand thanks! May Allah smile on you and all your family. May your wives be fertile and may you beget many strong sons!"_ The Beggar gave Lee a gap-toothed smile through his scraggly beard.

"_Uh, yeah."_ Lee was taken aback by the flowery blessing. Once that blessing would have been dismissed with a laugh—now he found himself strangely touched by it.

The waiter pushed the Beggar away. _"You got your alms, now leave and do not disturb any more of our patrons."_

The Beggar bowed and bobbed and shuffled off to a dark corner between two buildings.

Lee nodded as the man left, and ordered dessert and a small pot of strong Arabic coffee. Once his meal was finished and the bill paid to the tune of profuse apologizes from the hapless waiter, who got a better tip for it, Lee wandered back toward his hotel. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Beggar rise and follow him.

Nearer his hotel, Lee sat down at an outdoor tea shop and ordered a pot of hot sweet tea and two cups. As the tea arrived, the Beggar sat down across the table and helped himself to a cup of tea.

"_I see the years have been kind to you, Scarecrow,"_ the Beggar began.

"_I'm doing OK, Beggar, how about you? It's been a while since you contacted me."_

"_With the Soviets in Afghanistan my … talents … were needed in other areas."_

"_I see. What do you have for me?"_ Lee wanted to get down to business.

The Beggar sipped his tea and spoke thoughtfully, _"This is a delicate situation."_

Lee nodded. _"I appreciate that."_

"_Many people have been involved in this … matter."_

"_How many?"_ Lee asked cautiously.

"_Several."_ The Beggar refilled his cup and sipped more tea as he sat back and enjoyed the evening air.

Lee was prepared to play the man's game. He refilled his cup and sat back and sipped his tea, too. _"It sure is a beautiful evening."_

"_Indeed, Allah has been merciful and given us pleasant weather, all praises to the Prophet."_

"_I may have to move on in a day or two."_

"_Quetta is a beautiful city,"_ the Beggar offered.

Lee smiled, so that's where the action was. _"It's been years since I've been there. Has it changed much?"_

"_In some ways it will never change. In others there are so many new buildings and roads…"_

"_Sounds like I'd have a bit of trouble finding my way around."_

The Beggar was struck by an idea. _"I could arrange for a driver—a local guide—he is my cousin—very reliable and a good cook—his rates are very reasonable, noble sir."_

Lee rubbed his chin and looked reluctant. _"I don't know…"_ and so the negotiations began in earnest. In the end Lee had 'contracted' for a truck, a driver, a servant (the Beggar himself), a load of foodstuffs for supplies and 'local' accommodations in Quetta.

Lee passed the Beggar a few banknotes to seal their bargain and the Beggar passed Lee a folded paper. Lee pocketed the paper and the two agreed to meet the following day after mid-morning prayers outside the hotel. The Beggar would arrive with the truck and his cousin.

They finished their pot of tea, and Lee ordered another. They spent a couple of companionable hours chatting about mutual acquaintances, rehashing old times and generally discussing the state of affairs in that part of the world over the past decade. At dark, Lee bade his friend goodbye and made his way back to his hotel. Once in his room, Lee read the note. 'Bring $5000 and I will provide a Geiger counter as well. I will arrange to get you access to the trucks carrying the materials you are interested in. They are at a Pakistani air base outside Quetta. Afterward I will get you back to Jacobabad air base so you can return home.'

Lee was concerned. Billy would consider another $5000 somewhat excessive, but if the intel was good and he could get proof, it was well worth it. He thought for a while and decided to call Billy. DC was 10 hours behind Pakistan, so it was just before noon in DC.

"Melrose here."

"Billy, it's Lee. I'm at the hotel here."

"Are you having a good time on your trip?"

"Oh yeah, I'll be going to Quetta for some sightseeing."

"How are your finances holding out?"

Lee ran his hand through his hair. "I need a bit more—say five thousand."

"Five thousand!" Billy roared.

"Yeah—it's turned out to be a more expensive trip than we planned and I'm hoping to bring back some good souvenirs."

"They better be damned good souvenirs." Billy sighed. "OK, I'll have it wired to the bank and send a confirming telegram to your hotel. Anything else?"

"Yeah, let Amanda know I'm OK. Hopefully I can get this wrapped up in a few days and be home by the weekend."

"I'll let her know, take care."

"Thanks Billy, see you."

End Act Two


	2. Chapter 2

Act Three

_Indicates *Translated from the Urdu*_

The next morning, Lee woke up early in the worn, lumpy bed the hotel provided. He packed his bags and paid his bill. He arranged to store his luggage until the truck arrived, and he arranged for the Jeep he arrived in to be reclaimed by the Army. He pocketed the telegram that had arrived overnight, which was the confirmation for the $5000 waiting for him at a nearby bank. He would pick up the money as he and the Beggar were on their way out of town.

The morning was cool and bright. There were several small cafes open for breakfast and Arabic coffee.

Lee sat at a likely-looking café, and the proprietor bustled up to him.

"_May Allah bless your day, noble sir. I will bring you our finest breakfast_!" He stated proudly.

"_Just an Arabic coffee, please,"_ Lee countered.

"_Is the noble sir going to start his day without a fine first meal? Life is not as pleasurable without a good breakfast!" _The proprietor looked chagrined.

Lee shook his head, was this some conspiracy of Amanda's—to have people all over the world remind him that 'breakfast is the most important meal of the day'? _"No, thank you. I'm sure it's a fine breakfast, but all I want is your excellent Arabic coffee."_

The proprietor nodded less enthusiastically, and walked off muttering. When he returned with the coffee, which he poured out with a flourish, he tried again, _"We have a fine selection of fruits and pastries. Perhaps that would be more to the noble sir's liking this fine morning."_

Lee shook his head, and sipped the strong thick brew. _"No thank you. Your coffee is among the best in the world. I require nothing more to make my morning complete."_

The proprietor left again. Once Lee was finished, the man came bustling back with a platter of fruit and pastries. _"Do you wish anything more? More coffee? Perhaps, some fine mangoes? A delicate pastry?"_

"_I will recommend your fine establishment to all my friends."_ Lee placed an overly generous payment on the table. The proprietor seemed mollified by the money, and bowed Lee out.

Shopkeepers were opening for the day, and Lee knew where he wanted to go from his wanderings the previous afternoon. He bought two colorful shawls of fine pashmina wool: one for Dotty, and the other for Amanda. He bought several scarves for other relatives—he ruefully thought about Amanda's reaction 'Scarves, Stetson?' but these were special scarves, of hand-woven wool and were soft, warm and deceptively light. He was at a loss for Philip and Jamie. He saw some hand-made beautifully decorated knives, but then he pictured Amanda's reaction, and decided to pass them by for different gifts.

The time was coming for him to be back at the hotel, and he still didn't have anything for the boys. He wanted something 'cool' but also tied to the history of the area. At one stall, he saw a curved sword, and he chatted with the proprietor about it. It was indeed a historical piece. He knew better than to buy a sword for one of the boys, but the proprietor, seeing Lee was a student of military history, brought out several wrapped bundles from the deep recesses of his shop.

Inside were various weapons and armor—all old and carefully cleaned and oiled. He admired the weapons, and couldn't pass one up for himself: it was an elephant goad crafted from a coppery metal. It was about 30" long, beautifully inscribed with designs, and the pommel unscrewed to reveal a 6" triangular bladed knife. The knife was fine steel, and wickedly sharp. It was something that was totally impractical, but the workmanship and design was so pleasing, that he had to get it for himself. Maybe he could display it at the office. Amanda might not appreciate it being at home with the boys.

In other bundles were more of the curved swords, but also some nice armor. He especially admired a shirt of fine welded Persian 6-ring mail. It was too small for any adult to wear, but the workmanship was exquisite, and it was a genuine Persian piece. He could envision Jamie researching the history of the shirt and learning about the Persian Empire, moving across the Middle-East conquering all the countries within their reach and ruling for thousands of years. The Shah of Iran, who had fled in the Islamic revolution in 1979, was a direct descendant of those Persian Emperors of old.

Another piece that caught his eye was a Persian helmet with an attached coif of mail, designed to cover the back of the neck. The helmet was steel with a nose-guard, as was the mail, again fine, welded and 6-ring in design. It was small and undecorated, but the shape was quite pleasing: it tapered to a point at the top with a small pierced spike crowning it. Lee could envision the fancy plume that had been tied to that pierced spike. Again, it was an authentic Persian piece, and he figured Amanda wouldn't squawk too much about pieces of armor that were almost too small for the boys to wear. People were smaller in that area of the world, so the armor was so small it would not fit the average American. But they were genuinely 'cool' gifts, and hopefully the boys would do a bit of research on them and learn a few things about the history of the Middle East.

Then he spotted another piece. It was a short curved knife. The blade was Damascus steel—the finest steel made—and the metal hilt and scabbard were engraved and inlaid with pure silver. It was not a practical thing, but the design and contrast between the dark metal and bright silver was especially striking. He thought it was something the Colonel might like. And it was small enough to be easily transported, so it could accompany the man in his endless moves from base to base. Why Lee was thinking of his Uncle at a time like this, he didn't know, but he decided to get it anyhow. The man needed something for Christmas, and that was something he would appreciate and enjoy.

"_You have some interesting merchandise,"_ Lee started the negotiations.

"_My poor shop is graced with your noble presence. These small offerings are but a trifle to such an important traveler as yourself."_ The shopkeeper caressed the knife lovingly.

"_I might be pleased to bring some of these items home to my family, as a memento of my travels."_ Lee pressed on.

"_My unworthy merchandise would be made magnificent in the home of such a discerning collector."_ The shopkeeper got down to the heavy bargaining.

"_I am just a traveler, and travel can be so expensive these days,"_ Lee countered

"_A man's family surely deserves the very finest gifts when he returns home."_

"_My family will be happy to see me return safely, they require no gifts, though I choose to bring back a few souvenirs as it pleases me to do so."_ Lee tried to sound casual.

He haggled further with the shopkeeper, but time was pressing, so in the end he paid more than he could have if he had bartered in earnest. But the prices were good by any standard, and he was glad to have found items that were unique and tied to the region and its vast history. It was amazing that these things, many hundreds of years old, were just 'lying around' waiting for an interested souvenir hunter. In the US, they might even be considered museum quality, but over here they were nothing special. The shopkeeper re-wrapped each item carefully in oiled cloth, and instructed Lee in the niceties of their care. Lee figured Leatherneck might be able to advise him on more practical methods of cleaning and protecting the items from rust.

Finally, he claimed his bundle and hurried back to the hotel. As he arrived, he spotted an ancient panel truck, parked in the alley beside the hotel. It looked to be surplus WWII, and probably hadn't been painted since then. It was battered, worn and shabby-looking. But if Lee knew the Beggar, it would run well, and be a reliable form of transport, if not fancy or particularly comfortable. The Beggar and a younger man were lounging against the hood, quietly watching the world pass by. The Beggar spotted Lee, and he poked his companion, who jumped to take the bundle from Lee.

"_You're late, my friend,"_ the Beggar chided.

"_I was shopping for gifts for my family. The shopkeeper was not in a hurry."_

The Beggar chuckled, _"They never are, with tourists. They figure they can always sell one more item if they talk and keep showing their wares."_

"_I did get some good stuff, so it was worth it."_ Lee reclaimed his luggage, and the younger man hustled to store it in the back of the truck.

"_This is my cousin, Ahmad,"_ The Beggar introduced the younger man to Lee. Ahmad smiled and shook Lee's hand. _"He will drive and help out in our travels. He is also a good cook, so we will eat well on this trip."_

"_How do you do, Ahmad?"_ Lee greeted the man.

"_I am honored to be working with an important American person, honored sir. My cousin has told me of our journey, and I will endeavor to serve you excellently."_

"_Thank you, Ahmad."_ Lee turned to the Beggar. _"We've got to get going. We have to stop at the bank on our way out."_

"_Then we shall start."_ The Beggar opened the passenger door of the truck, and wiggled into the space behind the seat. Lee sat in the passenger seat, and Ahmad took the wheel. Lee told the man the bank they needed to stop at, and they were off.

At the bank, Lee showed his telegram and verified his ID. He was eventually handed an envelope with $5000 US dollars inside. Lee tucked the envelope inside his jacket and went back to the truck. Once he was settled, they set off on the road to Quetta. When they were clear of Sibi, Lee handed the envelope to the Beggar. The Beggar opened it, peered inside, riffled the bills and then closed it up and made it disappear into his voluminous worn robes.

The drive to Quetta took longer than it might have as the ancient truck didn't go much over 40mph. But Lee was used to the different pace of life in this part of the world, and so he settled back and dozed—alternately napping and contemplating his life back in DC.

Once the baby was born, life would change for everyone in the Stetson-King-West household. He had already read several books on pregnancy and childbirth, and a couple more on early child rearing. Intellectually he understood about the midnight feedings and chronic lack of sleep most parents suffered through—but the books seemed to gloss over how a new parent would feel about their child.

Amanda had told him how it had been with Philip and Jamie—how she had loved them so completely—the feeling of awe and responsibility that this tiny person was yours—a part of you—and you were responsible for them until they could make it on their own.

Lee was excited about the baby. He hadn't really set his heart on a boy or girl. He was just in awe of the thought of a small person that was a combination of himself and Amanda—hopefully the best of each of them. Perversely he was reminded of the famous exchange between George Bernard Shaw and his actress-mistress. The actress was with her secret lover at a party, and the exchange was witnessed and immortalized. She was trying to make clever conversation and said, "Oh Mr. Shaw, I think we should have a child together. With my looks and your brains, our child would be the envy of all!" Shaw immediately replied, "Ye Gods, woman! What if it had my looks and your brains?"

Lee smiled ruefully to himself as the question made him think of a child with his impulsive temper and brusque manner, and Amanda's rambling and penchant for trouble. He shook his head to clear the frightening thought. With Amanda as the child's mother—boy or girl—there was no better mother around. But he had no idea how to be a father. He remembered so little about his own father—mostly the smell of his pipe—and Lee was definitely not going to take up smoking.

He knew that times had changed a great deal since he was a child. Amanda would not automatically stay at home full-time after the baby came—once her maternity leave was over she would probably go back to work. It was lucky they had Dotty—she had said she would be very happy to take care of her newest grandchild while Lee and Amanda were at work. Or they could check into childcare—the Agency had a couple that other personnel used for their children—and they were thoroughly checked out for security and safety.

But would Amanda want to go back into the field? Would he want her to? That would have to be Amanda's choice. What if she didn't go back into the field? Would he want to work solo again? Not really. Would he want to work with a new partner? No way! It had taken years to get used to Amanda. So it seemed their careers in the field hinged on Amanda's decision about working in the field after the baby came. Lee knew there were other jobs with the Agency they could do—but would they work together? He really liked working with Amanda, they complimented each other so well. And they had a great success rate, which had helped to keep them together after their marriage.

There were other job offers for both of them—individually and as a team—from other places, both in government and in the private sector.

They had until mid-March—that was the baby's due date—except that was only four months away. Uh oh! So they had to have their big talk sooner rather than later. Thanksgiving was a couple of weeks away—maybe before then he could arrange for some quiet time alone with his wife—maybe plan a nice evening out—a quiet restaurant with just the two of them—and then they could talk it over. One thing was sure—family life in the Stetson-King-West household was anything but quiet.

They stopped for lunch and from the back of the truck Ahmad pulled out a small brazier and a cooler with supplies, and they had roast lamb strips with grilled vegetables and rice. _"All part of the services, honored sir!" _Ahmad had grinned as he quickly prepared and cleaned up their repast. They arrived at Quetta late-afternoon. Their ultimate destination was the Pakistani airbase outside of town.

They stopped at a small local hotel and the Beggar dropped Lee of with his duffle. He explained, _"Scarecrow, I must make arrangements for our visit and check with a few people here and there. So rest and clean up—do some more shopping—and have some dinner. I will return this evening after sunset. We will then take a drive and see where the trucks are parked while their drivers rest. But I must do these things alone. Those I deal with are suspicious of infidels."_

Lee checked into the hotel, paying for his stay in advance. He showered, changed clothes and then left to wander the outskirts of Quetta. He had no plans to buy any more souvenirs, so he just window-shopped at the many and varied stalls. He spent some time at a tea shop, just watching and absorbing the local color. He listened and noted the language and accent differences between Quetta and Sibi. He knew his Urdu was far from perfect, but he also knew he could pass for a person 'not from there' in most any Pakistani city. Which was a distinct advantage for him. Usually he played 'dumb American' and didn't reveal his understanding of Urdu. Other times, it came in very handy.

He ate dinner in a small café, and was wandering back toward his hotel, when he spied something he knew he had to get for Amanda. It was a bathrobe, deep blue with colorful flowery embroidery. It reminded him of a spring garden at twilight. The fabric was fine wool, which would be warm, but not bulky. He could see Amanda in that bathrobe, nursing their newborn child. The strong emotions accompanying that picture took him by surprise, and he paid the asking price without bartering. Then he saw the small matching blanket. It was perfect—something for their child—the child he and Amanda had created. Again strong emotions swept over him at the thought of their child. People always talked about the deep love a mother felt for her unborn child, but Lee realized that a father could also feel a similar love for a person not yet born. If it was this strong now, how much more would it be when the baby was finally here? He was beginning to understand what other men who had become fathers talked about. Father-love may not be something celebrated in song and story—but it was just as real and strong as mother-love. He bought the blanket also, and headed back to the hotel. It was nearing sunset, and he didn't want to be late again.

The worn truck was not in sight, and he went up to his room. The Beggar was inside, waiting for him.

"_Are you paid up for the night?"_ The Beggar asked.

"_Yes,"_ Lee replied.

"_Good—we will leave now—bring your belongings—we will not be returning here."_

Lee grabbed his duffle, and they made their way down the back stairs and out into a grubby alley. The truck was parked there, and the Beggar directed Lee into the back of the truck. He handed Lee a bundle that was stored just inside the door.

"_Put these on over your clothes. I can do nothing for the eyes. Look downward—do not meet anyone's gaze."_ He handed Lee a jar of something. _"Use this on your face and hands—there is a small mirror in the kit—you can see from the light of the cab in the back of the truck."_

He shut Lee into the back of the truck and locked the door. There were bundles and boxes inside, but there was room up near the cab for Lee to sit in relative comfort, hidden from prying eyes in case the door was opened for inspection. The bundle consisted of a worn dirty turban, a burkah to wrap around his head and the ubiquitous long shirt-like garment worn by most men. Lee opened the jar and discovered a brown cream designed to darken his pale skin so he could blend in with the local population. He pulled off his shirt and applied the cream to his face, neck and upper chest, as well as the back of his neck and ears. After he had inspected his work, he applied the rest of the cream to his hands and arms up to the elbow. He waited for the cream to soak in and dry somewhat. 'Hopefully this stuff will come off with cold cream or something similar—otherwise it could take weeks for it to wear away,' he shook his head. 'The things I do for my country…' he thought ruefully.

Then he replaced his own shirt and donned the native shirt-garment over that. Surprisingly it fit—he was substantially larger than the average Pakistani man. The Beggar has some good contacts if he could get this in Lee's size at short notice. He donned the dirty turban, taking care to tuck his sandy hair underneath. He then wound the burkah around his head and face, he hoped it all hid anything that wasn't properly dyed or covered. He'd have to slump if he went out in the streets—his height was another giveaway that he wasn't a Pakistani.

Lee rummaged around and found a Geiger counter. He checked it out, turned it on and made sure the batteries were good, and tried to take a reading. It registered minimal radiation, which was normal. Hopefully it wouldn't register too strong a radiation level—he didn't want to have to go through decontamination or—God forbid—radiation sickness. He had two small cameras. One was housed in a lead alloy with a lead-glass lens. It took less detailed pictures, but it was mostly radiation-proof. The film wouldn't be ruined by moderate radiation levels that could ruin film in a non-leaded camera. The other camera was standard Agency issue. He'd use both and hope all the shots turned out. Since he could do nothing more to prepare, he settled down to doze until they arrived at their destination.

Eventually the truck stopped and the engine shut down. Lee was instantly alert and ready. He heard muffled voices outside—someone talking with the Beggar in Urdu and later the Beggar speaking English to someone. The voices receded and Lee waited patiently—hidden out of sight in his little area next to the cab.

After about an hour, the door opened and Ahmad called softly to Lee, _"Please sir, come with me. Stay close and do not meet anyone's gaze. We will go to where you need to be and you will do what you need to do and we will then carry a crate back to the truck. Do you understand?"_

"_Yes, I understand Ahmad,"_ Lee replied as he climbed out of the truck.

They were parked in a lot with many assorted vehicles—some sort of civilian supply area. Beyond was the gate and razor-wire fence surrounding the Pakistani Air Base. Lee and Ahmad walked up to the gate. Ahmad produced a note and an envelope and handed it to the more senior of the guards. The envelope disappeared and the guard read the note. Lee figured some of his $5000 was in that envelope—whatever it took to get the job done.

They were passed into the base, and Ahmad led Lee to a metal building. Inside were half-a-dozen trucks. It smelled of dust, oil and exhaust. Lee touched the hood of one truck—it was warm.

Ahmad spoke quietly, _"The drivers have stopped for their evening meal. They leave again in two hours. We must be out in no more than ninety minutes."_

Lee nodded and then went to work. The first truck held many crates and had no radioactivity. The crates were labeled in German and were from a manufacturer of sophisticated electronic and technical equipment—components that could be used to refine uranium or make a nuclear bomb. Lee photographed the crates and pried one open. He found a bill of lading and photographed that and the tops of the components nestled in the packing material. All the trucks held similar cargo, German crates with electronic components, bills of lading, and little or no radioactivity.

He finished his inspection of the trucks in a little over an hour, and then ran the Geiger counter around the building. There was a chance uranium had been shipped through there, and there might be some residual radioactivity. In one corner, the radiation level was significantly higher and he noted it, took a picture of the reading on the Geiger counter and recorded the readings in a small notebook.

Then the ninety minutes were up and Lee and Ahmad left the building with the trucks, went to another area and picked up a crate and carried it out to the gate. The same guards as before passed them out and they carried the crate to the truck and stowed it in the back.

Ahmad indicated Lee was to get back in the cargo area. _"Now we wait for the Beggar. It shouldn't be long."_

Lee settled in for a wait and the drive to the US Air Base. He was dozing when he heard gunshots and an alarm. The door flew open and the Beggar pushed a man in Pakistani garb similar to Lee's into the back of the truck. The Beggar spoke quietly, _"Get in and hide. Allah willing, we will leave before they think to search the civilian vehicles."_

Lee grabbed the man's hand and pulled him into the back to his hiding place. It was a snug fit with two people facing each other, but Lee had endured much worse.

The truck started up and rumbled away down the road. Lee and the man had their burkahs drawn over their faces. Only their eyes showed in the dimness. After half an hour Lee relaxed, figuring they were away and safe. He addressed the other man in Urdu, _"I am called Lee—it seems we are to be traveling companions. May I have the honor of your name, sir?"_

The other man mumbled something Lee didn't catch. Then a familiar voice said in English, "I don't speak the local language, so you're out of luck, buddy."

Lee pulled off his burkah and turban and looked at his uncle, the colonel. The colonel's eyes widened in recognition and they spoke simultaneously:

"What are you doing here!"

End Act Three

Act Four

In the back of the truck Lee passed the Colonel a canteen and the older man drank sparingly.

"Sir, what the hell are you doing here? You're not in uniform." It was a ludicrous statement, but Lee couldn't think of anything else to say.

The colonel looked around, "Skip, are you alone or did your imbecile bosses send your pregnant wife to this god-forsaken place, too?"

"Amanda's back home. Hey! How did you know she's pregnant?"

"Well, it certainly wasn't from you, boy!"

Lee ran his hand through his hair in exasperation, "We've been busy…" He trailed off guiltily.

"Your mother-in-law Dotty is a delightful woman. She has been corresponding with me regularly—ever since your marriage—she keeps me up on the family news. And Amanda writes me now and then, too."

"I see." Lee squirmed. How was it that this man could always make Lee feel like he was 8 years old again and had just wet the bed? He thought of something Amanda had said to him, 'He's your only living blood relative—you should be glad he's around. And he can only make you feel bad if you let him. You're a grown man with a successful career and a loving family. Act like a responsible adult and he'll respond in kind.'

Lee took a deep breath and prepared to take his wife's advise. "So what are you doing here, anyway?" He figured changing the subject was the safest course.

"I might ask you the same question," Colonel Clayton shot back.

Lee replied pleasantly, "I'm doing my job. Nothing out of the ordinary for me. And you?" He put a mildly inquisitive look on his face.

"The same," was the gruff reply.

"Really," Lee said dryly. "I wasn't aware the US Air Force issued burkahs and turbans to its officers these days. I guess I'd better brush up on current military dress."

The colonel smiled. "OK Skip, you've got me. I trust you can keep a secret?"

Lee just answered with an incredulous look.

"Yeah." The colonel continued, "Intel has it that Pakistan has been retrofitting F-16's with hardware to drop a nuke or two…"

Lee's eyes widened at this additional tidbit.

"And," the colonel went on, "since I commanded a squadron of F-16 pilots for a few years… I know the aircraft inside and out so the brass figured I'd have a good chance to spot that hardware if I got close enough to one of the planes in question."

"And did you?" Lee asked.

"Yes. And yes, they are retro-fitted to carry nukes. Which distinctly violates the agreement with the US for their use in Pakistan."

Lee nodded. "That correlates with why I'm here. I'm looking for nuclear material or bomb components."

The colonel shuddered. "Find any?"

"No—thank God—to the first and yes to the second."

"Whew. Better components than fissionable materials."

Lee nodded in agreement. "You said it. So, where are you bound for?"

"Home. You?"

Lee nodded again. "The same."

"Want to hitch a ride? I've got a spare seat in the jet I flew over in."

Lee was surprised—and grateful. Hitching a ride back with the colonel in a fighter jet would get him home much more quickly. "Sure. Thanks. I'll get home faster than I would taking regular military transport."

"Figured. You should be home right now—what with your wife expecting in March."

"Yeah. Well, this time I was the only man for the job. I didn't plan this, y'know."

"You never do, son," the colonel reprimanded. "What are you going to do once the baby comes? Amanda's boys are old enough to understand—but a baby needs two parents—not just a mother and some guy who shows up now and again between international assignments."

"Hey! Like I said—I didn't want to do this one," Lee was trying not to sound too defensive.

"And I'm asking again," the colonel continued in a more sincere tone. "What will it be like once the baby comes?"

Lee bristled. "Mom and dad seemed to manage OK."

The colonel shook his head sadly. "You don't know the half of it, boy. Some weeks you spent more time at the sitter's than with your parents. They were planning on getting out of the business. That little case that got them killed was supposed to be their last. They were going to quit because of you. And because they wanted to give you a baby sister or brother. They didn't want you to lose one or both parents. Sadly, they didn't quit soon enough."

"And so you were stuck with me after grandma died," Lee shot back.

"Is that how you see it?"

Lee was angry now. "That's how you said it—you called me diaper duty until I was 16. What was I supposed to think?"

The colonel sighed. "I'll admit I never expected to be a parent. But I did the best I could. You might have tried to meet me halfway," he finished accusingly.

"What the hell?" Lee was surprised the man was that thick. "I was a kid—a scared lonely kid. When I ended up with you it was the second time in my life that my whole world was turned upside down. At least grandma talked about mom and dad. You never did. I don't think you liked dad very much."

The colonel was silent for several minutes. "I'm sorry, Lee. Your father was a good man—a loving husband and a great father. I knew I could never replace him—so I just did my best. I saw how you and Barney hit it off. So I pulled all the strings I could to keep Barney with me whenever we were transferred. I didn't manage every time—but I did get him more often than not. And Barney was happy to help. I'm grateful to him. Hopefully he gave you something of what I couldn't."

"Yeah, Barney's a real good friend. I didn't realize you arranged for him to be stationed with you." Lee was quiet for a bit. "Thanks. It helped. A lot."

Both men withdrew into their memories for a while.

Finally the colonel spoke again, "So—what are you going to do about your jobs when the baby comes, Lee?"

Lee sighed. "I've been thinking about that a lot on this trip. I know I don't want to be out in the field without Amanda. Solo work just doesn't appeal to me any more and I'm damned if I'll go through breaking in another partner. It took almost three years to get used to Amanda."

"Three years?" the colonel asked with raised eyebrows.

"OK, OK, so I'm exaggerating—but it isn't worth it going through all that again. My Amanda's one in a million—one in a billion, really—and nobody else can ever measure up to her. Trouble is we haven't talked about it. She hasn't said whether she plans to work full-time after her maternity leave. So we have a lot of talking to do."

"Have you thought about your options?" the colonel asked.

"Yeah, we have so many options. We could stay as we are—partners in the field. We could come out of the field and take other positions with the Agency—but I don't know if we could continue to work together. And I'd like to keep working with Amanda. We make a great team. We could leave the Agency and take offers elsewhere: State keeps sending openings to me; ATF to both of us; I have a friend at the FBI who has hinted we could be instructors at Quantico; and then there's the private sector. There are lots of options. Maybe too many options. We just have to find time to talk about it. And we have to do it soon. Four more months and the baby is here. We still haven't worked out the living arrangements with a new baby. I don't want Dotty to move out—but the house just isn't big enough for another person," Lee ran his hand through his hair again.

"Sounds like you've got a lot on your plate. But you're looking to the future. That's good. Children have a way of making you do that, you know."

"And you would know all about that," Lee said wryly.

"Look boy—when I promised your parents I'd raise you if something happened to them and your grandma couldn't take you, I never thought I'd be honoring that promise so soon after I made it. I think your parents knew—your mother knew at least—that they wouldn't live to see you grow up. So they planned ahead. You'd better do that, too."

"Hey, Amanda and I aren't planning on going anywhere."

The colonel sounded sad. "You never plan that sort of thing, son. Life is what happens to you despite your best plans. Remember that. And even if you were an accountant for the IRS, well—people die in car wrecks every day—just accidents."

Lee winced at the mention of car accidents. "Yeah, I hear you…"

"Have you done anything with that trust fund your parents left you?"

Lee shook his head. "Not really. I've never really needed it. I made Amanda and the boys beneficiaries when I got married—and I'll add the baby once its here. But I have a good income and investments of my own—separate from the trust. Maybe I could just leave it for the kids—it would get them through college at least."

"What about the boys' father? Doesn't he have anything set aside for them?"

"I don't really know. Amanda has a small college fund for the boys—but she hasn't had that much extra money—she's been full-time at the Agency for only three years. Before that she was a civilian auxiliary and didn't make much. I had to co-sign on a loan for her to get her appliances and car fixed. She didn't make enough to qualify on her own with the Agency credit union."

"Was that when you were dating?" the colonel asked interestedly.

Lee smiled ruefully. "Actually it was about three months before that. I guess I was hooked even then—I just didn't know it."

"You were hooked when I first met Amanda—but neither of you realized it at the time."

Lee shook his head. "Why did everyone see it but me?"

"You weren't ready yet," the colonel replied sagely.

"Yeah." He was quiet for a moment. "I'm just lucky Amanda decided to wait for me to be ready. She told me once—'With love you have to be patient.' She has the patience of a saint."

"You're a lucky man, Lee. I'm glad you've realized Amanda and your family are more important than your job."

"Amanda taught me that for sure," Lee affirmed.

They were quiet for a while, each man lost in his own thoughts.

Then Lee spoke, "Sir, how did you hook up with the Beggar? He's an old contact of mine—I've dealt with him for over 10 years. How do you know him?"

The colonel smiled and replied, "I was stationed at Jacobabad for a while back in 1980-81 helping the Afghan insurgency against the Soviets. We trained personnel and supplied support and shipped supplies in. One day I'm off work, walking down the street of the town adjoining the base, and this grubby beggar comes up to me and asks—in English, mind you—if I was interested in a better way of getting supplies to the Afghanis. I talked to the man a while—made no commitments—and when I got back to the base I went through channels to try to check him out. I was allowed to read a few reports from the CIA and the Agency—a couple were filed by an agent codenamed "Scarecrow". After that, I figured the guy was OK, so I went back a few days later, same time and hoped he'd be there. He hit me up for alms, and then we sat at a tea shop and talked at length. When I want to contact him, I send word to a baker in town near Jacobabad base, and he sends word back to the base. When we heard about the F-16's and I was assigned to the matter a month ago, I remembered the Beggar. I figured if anyone could get me in and out, it was that guy. I finally got word back, and he said I should be at Jacobabad base five days ago, and when we met in person, he agreed to help. So here I am."

Lee nodded. "How much did you have to pay for his services?"

"$7500," the colonel replied quietly.

Lee was surprised. "It only cost me $5000."

"What did that get you?" the colonel asked.

"Access to the trucks that were shipping the suspected cargo. I got to examine them on the base while the drivers were having their dinner."

The colonel nodded. "I had to get to the F-16's and closely examine them—including the cockpit if possible. He probably had to bribe a few more people for that."

"Uh huh," Lee agreed. "Your jet at Jacobabad?"

"Yeah."

"We'll probably be there by morning."

"We should try to get some sleep."

"Yeah. Hey—Uncle Bob—thanks. For … everything." Lee said softly.

"Lee, you're family. You do what you have to for family," the colonel replied.

"Yeah well—thanks just the same."

They settled in to sleep.

QQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQ

Once they returned to the US after two rest and refueling stops, Lee and Colonel Clayton were debriefed at the Agency. Before they had returned to Andrews, Billy had cleared it with the Air Force, and other powers-that-be and it was agreed by all that it would be in everyone's best interests to conduct a joint debriefing at the Agency.

By 4PM all the debriefing was finished, and Lee and Colonel Clayton went up to the Q Bureau where Amanda was waiting for them. She welcomed Lee home with a warm kiss as the colonel watched. "I'm sorry I was out when you arrived. I was getting some follow-up information from TP. I missed you, sweetheart." Amanda ran her hand along Lee's chest as she talked. When they were finished, she turned to Lee's uncle, "Hello Uncle Bob. I'm glad to see you, though I'm a bit surprised."

The colonel embraced Amanda. "Hello Amanda. I ran into your husband in Pakistan—he needed to get home so I let him hitch a ride in my plane."

"Thank you, sir," Amanda said gratefully. "I'm glad to have him home that much sooner."

"I was glad to help out." He stepped back and regarded Amanda. "You're looking mighty good, little mother."

"I feel pretty good, too. How long will you be in town?"

"I have to report back to Andrews tomorrow and fly back to my home base."

Amanda smiled. "Would you like to stay with us overnight? The boys would sure like to see you."

The colonel shook his head. "I wouldn't want to put you out."

"Sir," Lee jumped in, "it's no trouble. Amanda's right, the boys—and I—would like to spend some time with you."

Amanda looked surprised at Lee's enthusiasm. "How about it, Uncle Bob? Mother's made lasagna—it's no trouble to set an extra place at the table."

The colonel was taken aback by the double assault. "OK, OK. But please allow me to bring some wine and dessert."

"That's not necessary," Amanda said.

"But it would be greatly appreciated," Lee finished for her.

"Then it's settled," the colonel said.

"Let's get our gear in the car, and head home," Lee gathered them to go.

Amanda stopped. "Except we need another car. I drove the 'Vette today. Mother was going grocery shopping this afternoon, so she's got the Wagoneer."

Lee volunteered, "I'll get something from the motor pool. Then I'll drive you to Andrews in the morning, and drop it off afterward."

"Thanks, Lee. That'll be a big help." The colonel accepted gratefully.

Amanda looked at the two men. "You guys made a pretty good team—you," she looked at the colonel, "found evidence that the F-16's had been modified—and you," she looked at Lee, "found the German electronics and trace radiation readings. With what I found out about the tritium," Lee and the colonel looked surprised, "we got conclusive intelligence on the situation and now the President can formulate a policy to deal with Pakistan."

"Tritium?" Lee asked weakly.

"TP found out the Pakistanis bought a tritium source from the West Germans," Amanda replied. "I was out getting confirmation and maps from him when you got back."

"But you asked him to nose around. If you hadn't we wouldn't have that information," Lee sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "This isn't good at all, Amanda."

"No, it isn't—but we got the information—we did our jobs," she affirmed.

"This one was a real family mission," the colonel said.

"I'm glad you were there, sir. I worry about Lee when he works alone," Amanda said as she stroked Lee's arm.

"A—man—da! I was fine. And really, he only showed up at the end."

She nodded. "But that was when you needed him the most. Otherwise you'd still be on your way back."

Lee nodded. "Yeah. Thanks again for everything, Uncle Bob."

"Anything for family, Lee," the colonel said as he slapped his nephew on the back.

Tag

Back at 4247 Maplewood Drive, the Stetson-King-West-Clayton family was finishing up dinner.

"Can I have another éclair, mom?" Jamie asked.

"Two is your limit, young man," Amanda replied, heading him off.

"But they don't keep forever, mom," Philip said as he tried an end run around Amanda and Jamie.

"They'll be just fine until tomorrow evening, boys," Dotty said as she swooped in and retrieved the rest of the assorted pastries the colonel had brought for dessert. "That was awfully nice of you, Robert, to get these for dessert. We can have them two nights in a row! And that wine you brought was delicious."

"My pleasure, Dotty. I don't get home-cooked meals very often, so I like to show my gratitude." He took Dotty's hand and kissed it. "My compliments to the chef."

Dotty smiled. "Oh Robert! It was just my lasagna. Next time, give me some warning and I'll make something special for you."

"Next time, I'll take you out to dinner," the colonel said with a warm twinkle in his eye.

"I'd like that," Dotty replied with an answering twinkle.

Lee and Amanda exchanged looks. Was there romance in the air?

Lee said, "Once the dishes are cleared, we'll open the gifts I brought back."

"Oh boy! Presents!" the boys chorused, as they leapt up to help clear the table quickly.

Once the table was cleared and the dishes were done, the family gathered in the living room. Lee brought several bundles in with him from his duffle.

"Who's first?" the colonel asked.

"Me—me," the boys said. The adults laughed at their eagerness. Lee felt the two largest bundles and handed one to Philip, and the other to Jamie.

"These are authentic. They're not for you to wear—but they're great historical pieces," Lee said as the boys began carefully unwrapping the oiled cloth.

They revealed the Persian helmet and mail shirt. "Wow!" "Cool!" they exclaimed. Philip tried on the helmet—it was very small. Jamie held the mail shirt up. "This is really neat—is this welded mail?"

Lee nodded. "Yes Jamie, each link is individually welded as it's added to the shirt."

"That must have taken forever!" Jamie exclaimed.

"Maybe you can go to the library and look up the techniques used to make those things, boys," Amanda suggested.

"Yeah," Philip replied with enthusiasm, "maybe we can try making something like it for ourselves, too."

"I don't think so, boys," Lee temporized. "We'd have to build a forge, and I think the Arlington fire regulations might prohibit something like that."

"How old are they? Where did they come from?" Jamie asked, as he examined the fine workmanship that went into making his mail shirt.

"They're pretty old. They came from Pakistan, though they're more Persian in design. They may be Moghul—but I'm not sure. You guys could research it and find out for yourselves. I only know what the shopkeeper told me." Lee said.

"Wait until the guys see this neat stuff! Thanks, Lee—these are really cool!" Philip enthused.

"Yeah, thanks Lee." Jamie said more quietly.

"I'll show you how to treat them so they don't rust and how to store them properly." Lee nodded in return. "Now, I think these are next." He passed two smaller bundles to Dotty and Amanda.

Amanda opened her package and held up her gift. She gave Lee a look and said, "Scarves, Stetson?"

"Oh Lee, this is beautiful!" Dotty exclaimed. She tried her shawl on and felt the soft impossibly fine wool. She leaned over and kissed Lee on the cheek.

Lee looked back at Amanda, and she smiled in return. "Thank you Lee, it's a beautiful shawl." Amanda kissed Lee as well.

Philip noticed there were three other unopened bundles. "Hey! There's more here. Who are these for?"

Lee passed a smaller bundle to his uncle. "This is for Uncle Bob."

The colonel looked surprised, but opened his gift. He pulled out the decorated curved knife and admired it. "This is exquisite work, Lee. It must have cost you a pretty penny."

Lee evaded that question. "The blade's Damascus steel—the finest there is. And the inlay is pure silver. I thought you'd like it. And it's relatively small so it won't be a problem to pack with your gear when you're transferred from base to base."

The colonel looked touched. "I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Lee." Both men knew the colonel was speaking about more than just the knife.

"What about those other two packages?" Jamie pointed to the last two bundles.

"This," Lee handed the larger bundle to Amanda, "is for you when the baby comes, and before, too."

She opened the gift and removed the deep blue embroidered bathrobe. "Oh Lee! It's gorgeous!"

"Yeah. I thought you could use it when you were nursing…" he said in a soft voice.

Amanda smiled broadly. "Its perfect. Thank you, sweetheart." She kissed her husband again.

"And this," Lee handed the last bundle to Amanda, "is for the baby."

Amanda opened the gift and held up the decorated baby blanket. "It's so beautiful—and it matches my bathrobe!"

"Yeah—I saw them and I couldn't resist…" Lee got a silly wistful expression on his face.

Amanda kissed him. "We still have four months to go before the baby's here."

"And we're going to need every minute of it," Dotty chimed in.

They all laughed and settled in to have a quiet family evening together.

The End

Historical overview. In 1989, the world did not know that Pakistan was on the verge of gaining full nuclear capability. Since 1974, when India announced it had achieved full nuclear capability (and probably before that) Pakistan had tried to gain the secrets of building their own nuclear bomb, and worked toward being able to deliver it to India, their neighbor and bitter enemy. Dr. AQ Khan, Abdul Qadeen KhanAbdul, was the physicist in charge of Pakistan's nuclear project. Eventually he was accorded the "Hero of the Nation" award after Pakistan had revealed the successful achievement of its goal on May 28, 1998.

By 1987, Pakistan had supposedly successfully carried out a controlled nuclear explosion, in the northern mountains bordering Afghanistan. In 1989, there were multiple reports of Pakistan modifying US supplied F-16 aircraft for nuclear delivery purposes. In 1989-90 there were reports of secret construction of an unsafeguarded nuclear reactor in Pakistan, using components from Europe. In 1990, western intelligence sources claimed Pakistan had recently 'cold tested' a nuclear device and was building a plutonium reactor and was cooperating with Iran in nuclear matters.

The main research facility was the Kahuta uranium enrichment compound in Punjab, roughly 32 kilometers ESE of Islamabad.

The scandal of West German complicity in allowing Pakistan to achieve nuclear capability didn't break until the late 1990's, shortly after they announced they had attained their goal. There was a big flap about why was this technology allowed to go seemingly unhindered to a third-world country, but no good answers were forthcoming. Evidently, it was all about selling merchandise, and the businesses involved never worried about the consequences of their sales. They just enjoyed massive profits.

But the world was largely ignorant of the extent and success of Pakistan's efforts until the mid-late 1990's. They kept their secrets very well. They triggered their explosions in an area of the world prone to many earthquakes, and indeed, a few of their bombs triggered earthquakes. Seismic readings indicated massive explosions—probably nuclear in nature—were taking place in the mountains between Pakistan and Afghanistan, but actual confirmation was not forthcoming. Add to that, the difference between being able to trigger a controlled nuclear explosion, and to be able to successfully make a nuclear bomb and then to be able to deliver that bomb to your intended target is vast, so the exact progress being made was shrouded in many questions and massive secrecy.

The nuclear material came from China and North Korea. This was not especially surprising, but it was very worrisome, adding another layer of volatility to the general instability of the Mideast and south Asia.

By the time Pakistan officially announced their nuclear capability in 1998, the world had already come to the realization Pakistan had the bomb for several years—possibly a full decade—before that announcement was made. India had certainly taken that into account in their dealings with Pakistan. So the actual announcement was something of an anti-climax. Still, the fear that India and Pakistan would start WWIII was strong, and still makes many people sleep badly. To this date, neither India nor Pakistan has signed the nuclear non-proliferation treaty.


End file.
